Httyd - Tales Around A Campfire
by Newboy7
Summary: The Riders are spending some quality time to themselves on Berk, when they are suddenly caught in a storm. Forced to go indoors, they huddle around a campfire, and tell tales of ancient, gigantic dragons from distant lands. This is set just before HTTYD 2.


The Isle of Berk was a bleak damp tiny drop in a vast mass of freezing currents and wild winds. It seemed so isolated in an ocean of such immense scale, that for many generations the Berkians believed the Archipelago was the only land under Thor's belt. But somehow, the island, just as stubborn as it's people had remained firm in it's place. Never shifting, shuffling or budging against the maces and talons of nature.

However, this in no way meant that the island was not subject to... brief intervals of weather. Berk, strangely, had not been bombarded by a strong storm for the entire year. Snotlout had dubbed it, "The Year Without Flying Sheep", a name which would become immortalised generations later.

This was until the new year had rolled around. Berk had emerged from the cold depths of winter and thought to itself, 'We're going to make it. We're half way out of the dark'. Then Storm Ragnarok hit. And by the Gods did it deserve that name. Never before in the islands history had such a torrent of rain and howling gales bore down upon the island.

Perfect timing by Hiccup's standards, as the "gang" had decided to celebrate the end of winter by heading to the solace of the lonely cabin, far out on the over side of the island. Where the dragon riders could escape the malice of the disgruntled villagers, that awoke at the dead of night to the sound of dragon fire and drunken whooping, as they partied through the Twilight hours.

The cabin had been subject to serious natural invasion, as moss and liken had spread to a worse degree than that of the village huts; which was considered an achievement by the locals. The interior was cosy, with carpets and wall rugs, as well as furs. Objects they did not expect to use for the duration of their visit.

Alas, when they had finally settled, the storm hit. With a greater force of any other storm previously seen on Berk. In the village the local populous was fine, with their newly constructed homes of fresh timber. Where as, Fishlegs was having a harder time convincing himself that they were safe as well. The old cabin creaked and groaned under he weight of the tempest, barley keeping it's roots firmly planted in the ground.

The "gang" was without their dragons either, believing it might be best to have a bit of alone time. Especially after the mead fiasco... take note, alcohol and Flaming Nightmare saliva do not mix. Besides, purely human interaction can be very beneficial. For Hiccup and Astrid anyway.

So with their untimely spirits crushed by the current Cyclone, the "gang" collected all of the necessary wall rugs and fur to keep them comfortable. To raise some hope, Hiccup struck a fire with some spare flint in his pocket and they huddled around the fiery heath. Hoping to gain some warmth.

As the yellow tendrils lazily licked the blackened logs, the riders sat in pairs. The Twins (obviously) under a yak cloth, that made Tuffnut itch uncontrollably, to the point where his elbow had suddenly jarred into his sister's stomach. Her neck rubbed up against the thick blanket, and as a result she too had been dealt the hand of Loki. Elbows flew and the usual twin chaos the "gang" had come to expect ensued.

The strangest couple, Snotlout and Fishlegs were struggling to retain the little territory they retained underneath the ill-knitted wall rug. The wall rug depicted a scene of two prize goats rutting their horns for dominance. This could not have explained their relationship better.

Snotlout huffed and wheezed, as Fishlegs continuously attempted to find a comfortable position within the rug; as though he was spooning Meatlug. With few options left, Snotlout promptly kneed him in the gonads. As he met Fishleg's teary eyes, he wore the face of innocent 5 year old girl. In retaliation, a war began; as buns, balls and biceps collided with one another. Future generations of Jorgenson's and Ingerman's gradually disappeared from existence as the battle raged on.

All of this would have normally directed someone's attention to the scenes before them. Luckily, the final couple had either become immune to the ongoings of everyday rider life, or were too distracted by each other to notice. In fast reaction to the ongoing weather, Astrid was the first to obtain a cosy garment. As a result, the two now shared the most desirable blanket.

Tucked under the cotton, the cliche romantic couple that we all know and love, were secluded in their calm and quiet conversations; that they themselves were only able to discuss. Commentary about their daily activities transpired between the two as they succumbed to each other's gaze.

Astrid continued to curl her fingers through his chocolate locks, as the firelight revealed shades auburn that she loved to relish her fingers in. Hiccup only listened to the words escaping her lips as everything else seemed to blur away from his vision. However, an untimely strong gust of wind that shook the cabin's foundations and landed a rafter between Snotlout and Fishlegs.

The "gang" were brought out of their internal musings and back to reality, as a sudden shiver passed over the entire group. United in their fear of the outside, they were drawn closer to hearth's warm hug. Finding themselves in close quarters, their eyes darted between one another, waiting to see who would be the fist to start the convers-

"Chicken's done!" The rest of the group startled, jolted in surprise at the source of the outburst. Tuffnut carefully removed 6 pieces of chicken from the rotisserie on top of the hearth and gave one to each of the riders. Everyone except from Tuffnut was hesitant to take a bite, fearing the worst. Whilst he munched on in mindless euphoria, Ruffnut noticed the stifled expressions of her fellow friends.

Swinging her drumstick around, "I know it looks like the back end of a Chicken's arse."

"Which it is." Tuffnut momentarily pausing from his activity, returned to devouring his dinner.

"It's actually pretty good." Ruffnut was faced with a collective look of raised eyebrows in opposition to her claim. Rolling her eyes, she insisted, "Believe me, anything usually crafted from the hands of a man who has not bathed in three weeks. I would not eat." The entire group shuddered in disgust at this brief thought, "But trust me, this man has been trained to be the best cook this side of the archipelago by our dad." Taking a bite, "You can really tell from the seasoning."

Hesitantly, everyone else began to chew the morsels and they were surprised, and relieved, to find that Ruffnut was right. Snotlout even attempted to snatch Fishlegs' chicken, as he savagely ripped the meat from it's bones.

"I mean, it's no Johan supreme. But it's pretty darn good." Chunks of chicken went flying over the fire as Snotlout added his commentary.

"Please, just call me," squinting his eyes Tuffnut stared into the distance with a closed shaking fist, "'The Righteous Rider'. Culinary extraordinaire and supplier of seasoned chicken."

Both sharing a deadpan expression, Hiccup and Astrid spoke in instant unison, "We're not calling you that."

In response, Ruffnut cocked her head and stretched her feet above the hearth. "And by your request we no longer call you Hiccstrid." The others snickered as Hiccup blushed furiously. Whilst Astrid only continued to stare intensely at Ruffnut, who continued, "I'd let him have this if I were you. It would be unfortunate to find find that nickname spreading though the village like wildfire."

A collective "woo" was heard throughout the group; except for Fishlegs, who's eyes darted back and forth between Astrid and Ruffnut, fearing another civil war was brewing. Astrid's glare deepened as her eyebrows sunk as far down her farce as humanly possible, challenging even Toothless's snarl. "Was that a threat Ruffy? Cause it sounded like one."

Absentmindedly, Tuffnut briefly interjected, "Probably was." Snotlout snorted heavily at the comment. Meanwhile, Hiccup was growing increasingly uncomfortable as Astrid's nails had began to dig into the young viking's hand, that had once been held so gently, but now was slowly turning purple due to a lack of blood.

Attempting to intervene and quell the situation, Hiccup stammered his way into the conversation in pain, "H-hey, let's not f-fight on our night o-off. There's b-better things to be doing than k-killing one another. Besides, I-I think I-uh might need an-an amputation soon." Releasing the death grip she had on Hiccup, she instantly released the crushed appendage and rambled into a state of apologetic stammering, kissing him on the check repeatedly.

Fishlegs, who personally had experienced enough 'hiccstrid' for one entire week decided to push the conversation in another direction, "Hey..." Suddenly gaining the attention of everyone in the room, "How about some, dragon tales. My grandfather and I used to sit down by the fireplace and-"

"You know Fishlegs, it's nice that you got all buddy buddy with your grandpappy. But the last thing I want to hear is more boring dragon manual recitations."

Hiccup quick to defend Fishlegs, "Snotlout, c'mo-"

Huffing furiously, "Y'know Snotface, I'm surprised... you've actually learned a big word. 'Recitations', wow, someone's finally put on their big boy pants." The entire group snickered furiously, and Tuffnut could barely contain himself. Snotlout, only cast his eyes to the floor, his face resembling the pigment of Hookfang's hide. "Their actually tales from the far corners of the archipelago."My grandfather used to be an explorer for Berk, cataloging Dragons that could been seen as potential threats. He used to tell me his findings when I was younger."

Snotlout, trying to cover his tracks shrugged off Fishleg's retort, "I mean... yeah, that kinda sound interesting..."

From the opposite side of the hearth, Astrid let out a long, "Pfft... Snotlout your apologies precede you." Laughter spread throughout the group, as Snotlout's face contorted into the expression of a disgruntled toddler.

Piling on, Ruffnut continued what was to become known as 'The Roast of Snotlout' in future years to come, "I think that's the best one we've heard so far". Snickering, Tuffnut held his head high; "I'm surprised one as esteemed as yourself, Sir Snotface, is capable of such an act of repentance". Rage and spite seemed to emanate off of Snotlout like the ferocious storm that lay outside the Cabin walls.

"Oh, get on with the stories already!" Sniggering still reverberated through the riders, as Fishleg's recalled the one tale still imprinted within his memory. The tale of the 'Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus'.


End file.
